Monster In The Moonlight
by LadySolitaire83
Summary: Molly is keeping something from everyone. What happens when Sally Donovan discovers her big secret? (One-shot friendship piece between Molly and Sally, with a tiny bit of Sherlolly)


**MONSTER IN THE MOONLIGHT**

**A/N: This is my entry for the Ladies of Sherlock October challenge, _Come As You Are_, and was originally published on Tumblr. It's a bit of a crossover between _Sherlock_ and _Being Human_. It's also more of a story between Molly and Sally, but I couldn't resist adding a tiny, tiny bit of Sherlolly. Hope y'all like it!**

**I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

Freak.

Molly Hooper hated that word. Especially when it was used to describe Sherlock Holmes. Especially when Sgt Sally Donovan called him that to his face.

Not that she didn't call him any names, at least in her mind, when he was being an insufferable man-child. But she wouldn't dare call him an "arrogant sod" or "insensitive fucker" to his face even if he deserved it. The hurt in his eyes whenever Donovan called him a freak was enough to keep Molly from stooping down to the detective's level.

He also didn't deserve that name. Being cleverer than most people were didn't make him a freak. Neither did being socially inept. In Molly's opinion, Donovan was being spiteful and immature every time she called him a freak. _She's lucky I haven't killed her with my bare hands_, she thought as she watched Sherlock and Donovan snap at each other in her morgue.

"How can you possibly know that the victim was in Epping Forest when he was killed?" Donovan was saying, incredulity evident in her tone.

"Because you only see and do not observe. The leaves that were stuck on his clothes seem to be _Zygodon forsteri_ or knothole moss, which is a rare species found in Epping Forest. I need to examine the sample in the lab, but I would be incredibly surprised if I were wrong. Also-"

"But he wasn't found in the forest!" Donovan interrupted.

Sherlock sighed. "Correct. He was dumped on the side of the road. But he was killed in Epping Forest. Thin gravelly soil on his trainers strongly suggests that he was in the forest when he was attacked." Sherlock's tone was dripping with condescension.

"Attacked by whom?" DI Lestrade asked as Donovan scoffed and shook her head. "A wild animal? Wolverine?"

His brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed at the name. "Perhaps. His wounds seem to be more severe than those caused by bears or lions or the like. It seems like a savage and ferocious beast attacked and killed Mr Garrideb."

Molly swallowed. She didn't doubt that Donovan, whose gaze fell on her, took that action as a sign of fear. She probably thought that the pathologist was afraid to be attacked by the beast that killed the man on the steel slab. Or more likely, that she was afraid to be found out. _She must know what I am, right?_

"What kind of monster is that?" Lestrade asked. "Are we dealing with a superhuman here? A werewolf?"

Sherlock looked at the DI as if he had two heads. "Don't be stupid. Werewolves don't exist. We are likely dealing with a genetically engineered person. It's difficult to tell whether the killer is a man or a woman."

"So you want us to look for someone genetically engineered to be a savage beast?" Donovan scoffed.

When the consulting detective nodded, Lestrade cursed under his breath. "We may need your brother's help with that one."

Sherlock grimaced. Despite her fears, Molly smiled. She would love to listen to that conversation. "Fine. I'll call him."

Lestrade nodded. "Thank you." His mobile rang and he walked out of the morgue to answer it.

Holding the evidence containers for the soil sample and the moss sample, Sherlock turned to Molly. "I'll be in the lab. I'll need coffee. Black-"

"Black, two sugars," she interrupted him as she zipped up the body bag. "I know, Sherlock. You don't need to tell me every bloody time."

He didn't answer. He only looked at her with a slightly confused expression on his face, his blue-green eyes softening for a moment before hardening back up. Then he strode out of the morgue without another word.

Donovan tsk-tsked at Molly as she passed by the detective on her way to the employees' lounge. "You've got to stop doing that!"

"What are you going on about?" She knew what the detective was referring to and she felt anger bubble up inside her.

"Serve Sherlock Holmes. You're not his maid or his PA. He's a grown man. He can get his own coffee. And he's not going to fall in love with you no matter how many times you make him coffee."

She rolled her eyes before answering. "I like doing things for him. And getting him coffee isn't a big deal. I'm getting myself coffee anyway."

Donovan narrowed her eyes at the pathologist. "It's fine if you were his girlfriend. Actually, even then, he can still get his own damn coffee. Plus, the hospital doesn't pay you to be Sherlock's slave dog." The detective sniffed and sneered in contempt, the tips of her canine teeth visible.

_Slave dog?_ Molly glared at Donovan. She imagined luring the detective into the woods on a full moon and unleashing the savage beast on the other woman. She imagined it hunting her around the forest until she cowered in fear. It would hover over her terrified form as it prepared to devour her. Then it would tear her apart, destroying her so much that perhaps even Sherlock Holmes would have difficulty identifying her body.

She blinked and shook the fantasy away. She sighed and glowered at Donovan, who was giving her a curious look. "I am not his slave dog. I like doing things for him because he's my friend. I like assisting him in his experiments and in his work because he's the best fucking detective Scotland Yard will ever work with. I _choose_ to do things for him. Despite being in love with him, I can still think and act for myself." She took a deep breath and smiled at the scowling detective. "Now, I am in desperate need of caffeine." She walked over to the door and opened it. She tilted her head towards the open door as she turned back to Donovan. "You should probably leave now. The Met doesn't pay you to hang around the morgue and bother me about my choices. And I think Lestrade just got a lead. He's already in the lift waiting for you."

The DI's faint voice calling for Donovan wafted into the morgue. She narrowed her eyes at the pathologist as she headed for the door. "How could you possibly hear that? I could barely hear it from here."

Molly only shrugged and smiled sweetly. "Special talent of mine."

Donovan raised her eyebrow. "Aren't you going upstairs too? Sherlock's waiting for his coffee."

"Yes, but he's probably focused on the samples and probably forgotten that he asked for coffee. I'll take the next one. Now, go on. Lestrade's waiting."

The sergeant scoffed and shook her head before exiting the morgue. Molly giggled as she listened to the DI telling the sergeant to hurry up. She closed the door and crossed the room to unzip the body bag. She examined the facial and neck wounds carefully before picking up the wrist tag. The date of death was a little over three weeks ago and matched the last time she was in Epping Forest. Molly paled and clutched the edge of the steel slab.

Unless there was another werewolf in the forest that night, Molly Hooper might have killed Mr Garrideb.

* * *

Sgt Donovan's witness smelled like a wet dog and it bothered the hell out of her. So while Winters recounted how he found the victim's mangled body, she looked around and searched for a dog. Nothing. She turned her attention back to her witness.

"Rumour has it that it was a werewolf," he asked her. "Is it true?"

She scoffed. "No, it's not. Do you have a dog?"

He shook his head. "No. I do love dogs. What about you?" He was smiling, but she detected something wicked in his eyes. Unspeakable hatred towards him welled in her heart. She didn't understand why, but she feared him at the same time.

"Ew, no. They're nasty, demanding little buggers." She lowered her head to hide the blackness of her eyes and the lengthening of her canine teeth.

Mitchell had told her right after he recruited her that she would be able to sense a werewolf's presence by its scent. Despite being taught how to kill them, she hadn't had an opportunity to do so. Perhaps she just hadn't met any werewolves since she was recruited. More likely, the ability hadn't kicked in until today. _It only took me ten years_, she thought as her eyes returned to normal and her fangs retracted.

Knowing that the interview was going nowhere, she ended it after telling him not to leave town. Winters gave her one nasty look before he walked away. _If I were a betting woman, I'd say he's the killer_, she thought. He and his kind attacked any creature they came across. Plus, he admitted that he was in the forest at the time of the murder and he didn't have an alibi. She might not be Sherlock Holmes, but she had a strong feeling that Winters killed Mr Garrideb while in wolf form. She just needed solid evidence. She made a mental note to dig into Winters's past when she returned to the office.

If she had her way, she would kill the lyco instead of arresting him for murder. She wanted to eliminate him before he killed her, but the detective in her didn't want to leave the case unsolved. She also wasn't sure if tonight was a full moon. If it were, then it wasn't the best time to kill a lyco.

She was about to pull up the weather forecast app on her mobile when she spotted a tiny brunette walking through the woods. _Is that Molly Hooper? What the hell is she doing here?_ She tapped out a text to Lestrade as she began following the woman.

Hey. Is Dr Hooper at Barts? - Sgt Donovan

The beep of her mobile pierced the silence in the forest. Donovan cursed under her breath and hid behind a large tree. She knew it was improbable, but she hoped the pathologist didn't hear the text alert. She put her mobile on silent as she peeked from behind the tree. Molly was nowhere in sight. But the disgusting odour of a dog was present, so she decided to leave her hiding place and follow the scent.

No, she's off today. Which is why Sherlock is having a tantrum. - DI Lestrade

Any luck on James Winters? - DI Lestrade

No, he didn't see anything unusual. - Sgt Donovan

Why are you asking about Molly? - DI Lestrade

I just wanted to ask her something about the post-mortem. Do you know if she'll be in tomorrow? - Sgt Donovan

I think so. She better be, because Sherlock refuses to work with any pathologist that's not Molly. - DI Lestrade

And the other pathologists are about to be traumatised. Gotta go. - DI Lestrade

Donovan thought about turning off her mobile, but she decided against it. If anything happened to her, the Yard would be able to track her down. _Let's hope Lestrade doesn't have to track down my mangled corpse_, she prayed.

She spotted the pathologist. She was wearing a tan pea jacket and dark blue skintight denims. She halted and looked around her as she adjusted the straps of her medium-sized duffel bag. Donovan scrambled to hide behind another tree.

"Hello? Is anybody there?" Molly's soft voice rang through the forest.

Donovan wanted to reveal herself to the pathologist. But, if she were going by the revolting scent alone, then Dr Molly Hooper was a werewolf. The pathologist's presence in a forest on a full moon, according to her weather forecast mobile app, strongly suggested that she was preparing to transform. _Oh, I am so screwed._

Recalling Mitchell's warning about transforming or transformed werewolves, Donovan followed Molly until she stopped at an old wooden barn in the middle of the forest. She looked around. "Sgt Donovan, is that you?" she called out.

_Shit!_ She flattened herself against the tree behind which she was hiding. She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a whimper.

"If I were you, I'd get the fuck out of here," Molly called out again when she said nothing. "Seriously, Sally. Get in your car and drive away from this forest. You're too good of a detective to die here. Please, Sally."

She hated that this creature, lowly and loathsome, was begging her to leave so she wouldn't die. She also feared what Molly was going to turn into. But the mousy pathologist being a werewolf intrigued her and she wanted to witness a transformation. A few moments passed before she heard a sigh, followed by the creaking of the wooden barn door.

She ran to a small window and watched as the pathologist undressed. Thanks to the dim light in the barn, she could see the scratch marks on her back. Molly doubled over and screamed in pain as she was unbuttoning her jeans. She folded her clothes and set them on top of her bag, only stopping a few times to scream in pain. She whirled around and Donovan covered her mouth with her hand to keep her from screaming. Molly's face was contorted and her mouth open as if to scream, but no sound came out.

The pathologist's face and head turned into a snout and fangs grew in. Her pink-painted fingernails and toenails grew out to form sharp claws. Thick, brown fur grew all over her body and her skin darkened. The wolf turned around and fixed its yellow eyes on Donovan. The loud, long howl it uttered froze the blood in her veins.

Donovan's eyes turned black and her own fangs grew in. When the wolf growled at her, she growled back before running away from the barn. _What a dumb move, Donovan_, she scolded herself as she ran faster. The barn door opened and she could hear the werewolf's growls from behind her. Its sounds grew louder, but she refused to look back. _Why do I not have a knife with me? Mitchell told me to carry a knife at all times!_

She screamed as she watched a werewolf leaping towards her from the west. She looked back and saw Molly's wolf form still behind her. _What the hell?! _Two_ fucking werewolves?_

She ran to the northeast, where her car was parked. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_!" she cursed breathlessly as she neared her car. She took her fob key out of her jacket pockets and remotely opened the doors. She slid inside and immediately locked the doors before starting the car. She looked out at the wolves and yelped.

The two werewolves were no longer chasing her. They were now viciously fighting each other. One wolf - she couldn't tell if it was Molly or the other one - was attempting to bite the other.

_Damn it, Sally_, she scolded herself as her eyes returned to normal and her fangs retracted. _Leave before these werewolves kill you!_ But she could not leave until she was sure that Molly was OK.

Finally, one wolf overpowered the other and stabbed it in the eye. It cut the other's throat with its long and sharp claws. The injured wolf howled in pain and fell to the ground. It went still after a few moments. The remaining wolf looked around and spotted her. It growled at her and jumped towards the car. Donovan drove away as fast as she could and didn't look back even if she felt and heard the wolf assaulting her car. She would just come back for Molly in the morning.

* * *

Two days later, Donovan entered the morgue and found Molly putting a body back into the storage cabinet. The pathologist looked up at her and gave her a tentative smile.

"Hi, Sgt Donovan," she greeted the detective, who advanced towards her. She turned to her, this time giving her a genuine and sweet smile.

"Hello, Dr Hooper." She stood across the werewolf. She nodded towards the scratches on her neck, which were healing nicely. "How are you doing?"

She took a deep breath. "Oh, I'm fine, thanks. Just a few scratches here and there. Thank you, by the way, for coming back for me."

Donovan smiled. "You're welcome. Thank you for saving me from Winters. And for not killing me."

The werewolf blushed. "Actually, I don't remember much from that night. I'm sorry, but I probably intended to kill you. I mean, I didn't know who you were while I was in that, um, you know, um, state."

The detective furrowed her brows. "So what happened then? Why did you attack him instead of me?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I probably sensed his intent to kill you. I mean, you were my prey. I most likely didn't want him to get to you before I did." She narrowed her eyes at the detective. "I did ask you to leave before I transformed."

Donovan shuffled her feet and looked down. "Well, yes. I should have left when you asked me to. But I guess I was too curious and too shocked to find out what you were. I mean, I was fine. No harm came to me. I was just so terrified that I would die at the hands of a dog." The detective bit her lower lip before looking up at the pathologist. "Sorry."

She shrugged again. "It's all right. How long have you been a-" She lowered her voice and leaned forwards. "-a vampire?"

"How did you know? Did you know all along?"

"Supernaturals identify each other quickly. I'm more surprised that you didn't know what I was. You should have identified me by my scent alone."

"I know," she answered, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I guess it took a while for the werewolf hunting sense to kick in. I mean, I was trained to kill werewolves. But I just didn't know I'd been meeting them. I didn't know what you were until two nights ago."

"Fair enough. But you didn't answer my question," she said.

"Ten years." She leaned against the closed storage cabinet. "This gorgeous Irish guy named Mitchell recruited me. He was great, actually. Amazing in bed. He also helped me control my bloodlust. Now, I only require fresh blood every month. Unfortunately, he had to move to Bristol and he told me to contact him only in emergencies." She smirked. "I should have called him two nights ago, but I was too terrified to do anything besides watching you transform and running to my car."

The pathologist nodded. "Have you talked to him since?"

The detective shook her head. "No. I couldn't get a hold of him. He's probably busy recruiting in Bristol or something." She glanced at the other woman. "How about you? How did you become a werewolf?"

Molly sighed. "An old boyfriend of mine was one. He would go out of town a few days each month. He wouldn't tell me where he went. The days he'd leave London would also vary, so it took me a while to suspect anything. So one night, I followed him and witnessed him transform. He hunted me down too. He scratched me before I reached my car. Even then, he didn't kill me. He probably sensed what I was to him. For the first few full moons, we transformed together. Then someone told him about this guy named Kemp, who allegedly had the cure for werewolves. He tried to persuade me to go with him, but I refused. About three weeks later, someone who escaped the facility where Kemp kept them came by my flat and told me that Tim had died during the procedure." She gave Donovan a rueful smile.

"I'm sorry," the detective said in a soft voice. She wanted to reach out to the pathologist, but she was still a vampire and Molly was still a werewolf. "Does Sherlock know?"

"God, no. He doesn't need to know. I mean, as you've already pointed out, I'm not his girlfriend. Even if I were, I'd be wary of telling him about my condition. Although, knowing him, he'd probably be fascinated and would want to experiment on me." Molly giggled, but even her smile was sad.

"Most likely. By the way, I'm sorry for what I said before about you and Sherlock. I didn't realise you've fallen hard for the git."

She smiled a little more brightly at Donovan. "It's OK. It's just hard for other people to understand that I do those things for him out of love. I mean, yes, he's a difficult man to love, but I can't help it."

The detective nodded and gave her a knowing smile. "Yes, I know exactly how that feels."

"Is that why you're so antagonistic towards each other? Because you loved him and he hurt you?" Molly's face showed no judgement, only curiosity.

"Well, I wasn't in love with him. I was just infatuated with him. And believe me, he was even crueller to me than to you. I asked him out once, but he said that he didn't want to waste his time on me. Have you asked him out yet?"

The pathologist shook her head. "I don't have the courage. He'd probably rip me apart if I did."

"Very likely. Anyway, I turned all the hurt and humiliation into anger. So now we snap at each other. It doesn't help that he's condescending to me because he's much cleverer than I am."

"Yeah, he's an arrogant sod. He does that to me too. Hell, he does that to everyone."

"True. The term 'inferiority complex' will never apply to that freak. He thinks he's superior to everyone else. He's not a vampire, is he?"

Molly laughed. "No, he's not supernatural at all."

"Could have fooled me." The two women laughed. "So what now?"

"What do you mean?" Molly asked.

"Well, you're a werewolf and I'm a vampire. We're supposed to hate each other so much."

"If you're worried about me killing you, then I promise you that I won't harm you. Just don't follow me during full moons to be safe, OK? And please don't provoke me, especially a week before and a week after a full moon. I can kill you with my bare hands. I'd hate for the Yard to lose a good detective."

Donovan laughed. "Agreed. Thanks. And I promise not to rat you out to my fellow vampires and to everyone else. I don't want Sherlock to lose his favourite pathologist."

"Agreed. And one more thing: Will you stop calling Sherlock 'freak'? He doesn't deserve that name and he's hurt every time you call him that. Please?"

Donovan slowly nodded. "Only if you stand up to Sherlock when he's being particularly ridiculous in his demands. Say no from time to time. I know you're in love with him, but I don't think serving him all the time is healthy for you and for your relationship with him."

The werewolf sighed but smiled. "OK. I'll do my best."

"Fantastic." She extended her hand towards the pathologist. "Vampire-werewolf truce?"

Molly shook her proffered hand. "Truce."

They dropped their hands at the same time and giggled together. "May I call you Molly?"

"Only if I can call you Sally."

The detective shrugged. "Sure. What time are you getting off work?"

Molly glanced at her wristwatch. "My shift ends at 5. Why?"

"I'm going to the pub after work. That should be around 6. Would you like to meet for drinks? We can talk about the lack of eligible men in London."

"Sure. Does your kind hang out at the pub as well?"

"One or two of them. But you'll be with me, so you should be safe. Plus, you can disembowel them with your bare hands if they try anything, right?"

"Well, it's better if I'm in wolf mode, but, yeah. I actually can."

"So you have nothing to worry about. What do you say?"

Molly thought for a moment, until she smiled sweetly at Sally. "Sure, I'll be there. It's been a while since I had drinks with a female friend."

"I didn't know the two of you were friends."

The two women looked over at the visitor, who stood at the entrance of the morgue with his hands behind him. Molly took a deep breath before responding. "Well, Sherlock, we're new friends. Problem?"

He shook his head. "No, none at all." He came closer to Molly and extended one arm towards her. His hand held a basket of assorted fruits and chocolates. "Mrs Hudson asked me to give this to you. She's worried after I mentioned that you were mugged on your day off. She would have dropped this off herself, but her hip was acting up."

Molly accepted the basket and blushed. "I love it. Thank you. Please give her a kiss for me."

The consulting detective grinned. "Will do." He clasped his hands behind him. "How are you doing, by the way?"

"I'm better now, thanks." The pathologist gave him a shy smile.

He nodded. "Good. I'll let Mrs Hudson know."

Sally shook her head and smirked at the pair. _If Mrs Hudson were the only person worried about Molly, then I'm a werewolf_, she thought. She cleared her throat and pushed herself off the storage cabinet. "Sorry to ruin the moment, but I have to go, Molly. See you at around 6.30 at the King's Head? I'll text you the address."

"Sure." She and Sally exchanged mobile phone numbers before the detective left the morgue.

"Since when did you become friends with Sgt Donovan?" Sherlock asked after Sally bade them goodbye.

"Since today, actually."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Molly, I'll be upstairs and I'll be checking on my experiments. Black-"

"Yes, I know. But, Sherlock, I have loads of paperwork to do before I meet Sally for drinks. Do you think you can get your own coffee?" She smiled sweetly at him as he scowled at her.

Molly strode out of the morgue, her chin raised, a smile dancing on her lips. _Oh, I can't wait to tell Sally about this._ She might even let her call him a freak once or twice.

* * *

_I thought it'd be fun to write Molly as a werewolf and Sally as a vampire. It_ was_ fun, but it also took a lot of research because I haven't finished Series 4 of _Being Human (UK)_. But I thought it was worth it. _

_Just a few notes:_

_1. I like Sally Donovan. I think she's a realistic character and Vinette Robinson is brilliant. But I cannot stand it when she calls Sherlock 'freak'. _

_2. It's my headcanon that Sally had a bit of a crush on Sherlock, but he was too cruel with her that she gave up and grew bitter. Hence, the nickname._

_3. This would be set pre-series._

_What do you guys think?_


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